Part 48

LET Titus {115} and Patience {116} stir up a commotion, Their plotting and swearing shall prosper no more; Now gallant old Jamie commands on the ocean, And mighty Charles keeps them in awe on the shore.

Jamie the Valiant, the Champion Royal, His own and the monarchy’s rival withstood; The bane and the terror of those the disloyal, Who slew his loved father and thirst for his blood.

York, the great admiral,—Ocean’s defender, The joy of our navy, the dread of its foes, The lawful successor,—what upstart pretender Shall dare, in our isle, the true heir to oppose?

Jamie quelled the proud foe on the ocean, And rode the sole conqueror over the main; To this gallant hero let all pay devotion, For England her admiral sees him again.

THE UNFORTUNATE WHIGS.

1682.—From the Roxburgh Ballads.

To the tune of “The King enjoys his own,” &c.

THE Whigs are but small, and of no good race, And are beloved by very few; Old Tony broach’d his tap in every place, To encourage all his factious crew. At some great houses in this town, The Whigs of high renown, And all with a true blue was their stain; For since it is so, They have wrought their overthrow, Old Tony will ne’r enjoy his own, again.

They all owne duty to their lawful prince, And loyal subjects should have been; But their duty is worn out long since, By the Association seen. But these are the Whigs, That have cut off some legs, And fain would be at that sport amain; For since it is so, They have wrought their overthrow, Old Tony will ne’r enjoy his own again.

And yet they are sham-pretenders, And they swear they’ll support our laws; These be the great defenders of Ignoramus and the Old Cause: They’ll defend the King By swearing of the thing, These are the cursed rogues in grain; For since it is so, They have wrought their overthrow, Old Tony will ne’r enjoy his own again.

The true religion that shall down, Which so long has won the day, And Common-prayer i’th’ church of ev’ry town, If that the Whigs could but bear the sway: For Oates he does begin Now for to bring them in, As when he came mumping from Spain; For since it is so, They have wrought their overthrow, Old Tony will ne’r enjoy his own again.

How all their shamming plots they would hide, Yet they are ignorant, they say, When as Old Tony he was try’d And brought off with Ignoramus sway: When Oates he was dumb And could not use his tongue, This is the shamming rogues in grain; For since it is so, They have wrought their overthrow, Old Tony will ne’r enjoy his own again.

Then let all true subjects sing, And damn the power of all those That won’t show loyalty to their King, And assist him against his Whiggish foes. Then in this our happy state, In spight of traytors’ hate, We will all loyal still remain; For since it is so, They have wrought their overthrow, Old Tony will ne’r enjoy his own again.

God preserve our gracious King, With the Royal Consort of his bed, And let all loyal subjects sing That the crown may remain on Charles’s head; For we will drink his health In spight of Common-wealth, And his lawful rights we will maintain; For since it is so, They have wrought their overthrow, Old Tony will ne’r enjoy his own again.

Printed for S. Maurel, in the year 1682.

THE DOWNFALL OF THE GOOD OLD CAUSE.

From a “Collection of One Hundred and Eighty Loyal Songs, all written since 1678,” and published London, 1694. [Fourth Edition.]

Tune,—“Hey, Boys, up go we.”

NOW the Bad Old Cause is tapt, And the vessel standeth stoop’d; The cooper may starve for want of work, For the cask shall never be hoop’d;— We will burn the Association, The Covenant and vow, The public cheat of the nation, Anthony, now, now, now

No fanatick shall bear the sway In court, city, or town, These good kingdoms to betray, And cry the right line down;— Let them cry they love the King, Yet if they hate his brother, Remember Charles they murdered, And so they would the other.

Weavers and such like fellows In pulpit daily prate, Like the Covenanters, Against the Church and State: Yet they cry they love the King, But their baseness will discover; Charles the First they murdered, And so they would the other.

When these fellows go to drink, In city or in town, They vilify the bishops And they cry the Stuarts down: Still they cry they love the King, But their baseness I’ll discover; Charles the First they murdered, And so they would the other.

When the King wanted money, Poor Tangier to relieve, They cry’d down his revenue, Not a penny they would give: Still they cry’d they loved the King, But their baseness I’ll discover; Charles the First they murdered, And so they would the other.

The noble Marquis of Worcester, And many such brave lord, By the King-killing crew They daily are abhor’d, And called evil councellors, When the truth they did discover; And Charles the First they murdered, And so they would the other.

The Papists they would kill the King, But the Phanaticks did; Their perjuries and treacheries Aren’t to be parallel’d: Let them cry they love the King, Their faults I will discover; Charles the First they murdered, And so they would the other.

Charles the Second stands on’s guard, Like a good politick King; The Phanaticks ought to be abhor’d For all their flattering: Let them cry they love the King, Their faults I will discover; Charles the First they murdered, And so they would the other.

Now let us all good subjects be, That bear a loyal heart; Stand fast for the King And each man act his part; And to support his Sovereign, Religion, and the laws, That formerly were established, And down with the cursed cause.

OLD JEMMY.